The Duality of Darkness
by shelleyrusalki
Summary: Luna Lovegood is a new Trainee Healer on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She finds that her mind might also be in need of some healing when she is introduced to one particular long-term patient, Bellatrix Lestrange; who was mistakenly presumed dead at the Battle of Hogwarts, only one year before.
1. Maniae Rays

**A moment before a sudden death: is something I think about perhaps a little too much. Some say it's just like falling asleep, which is comforting, but I can never remember falling asleep. I am Epileptic, and so I often wonder if it's anything like the few moments before I drop from one of the particular types of seizure I am prone to, and perhaps the most well known, a tonic-clonic seizure... as I remember every detail, taste, sound and thought before one occurs and I fall unconscious. I can imagine that being killed by a spell would almost definitely feel that way.**

**I haven't written much yet, but damn... It's taking ages! In between each line I've probably stared at a flashing teeny line for half an hour. I've written lots of notes, and I know how I want this story finished, but it's a little journey to get there... and the journey is of an utmost importance to me! The rating is so high because it gives me the freedom to play as and how I choose... and you will get your smut, eventually. Little trainee Luna won't meet the big bad cat until she's trained a little more, and it's working out that sort of stuff which is taking most of my time up. I work in a hospital, but I have no idea how high security psychiatric wards work, as there's no doubt that our Bella is in one of those.. so it's going to be some more research to be done, as well as some guesswork that sits well with me, to seem believable.**

**Any reviews are most welcomed, as well as any suggestions! **

**I'm a big fan of reading Bellamione, but there's so many good fics flying about involving that pairing... Bellamione works so well because Bellatrix and Hermione are so oppositional... but, this pairing is obviously going to have a very **_**different**_** dynamic, being that their personalities are a little more parallel... so I thought I'd give it a go, as it makes a lot of sense to me in many ways... I don't usually write fan fiction, although I think about different scenarios between characters a lot... my brain is dusty, and my writing is very rusty... so don't mind me too much - I'm just dipping my toes in. :-)**

* * *

_The world had spotted, and cracked, and fallen away from me, and then I did dream of a comforting blue light beneath the waters. A fear took hold as I felt my body stiffen, and the proceeding countless adrenaline rushes began to drown me as my breath was spirited away, and, as my neck seized, I was forced to look up to a stone cold sky at nothing in particular. My skeleton seemed to grow and envelop me, and my muscles became a quick sand that I began to filter through. My heart thudded loud from deep within my chest, a drum roll to a much anticipated event. I screamed for help but my mouth lay outstretched and denied to form the words, and no hands reached inside my skull. I was deep within the waters now, and vibrating through rock. The thing inside me, which is the essence of me, could not keep afloat, and it had nothing to grab on to. I had nowhere to go, I could not run from me. My soul naturally began to ache and plead of its own accord to some higher being; but it was webbed in that enchanted ceiling. My skin withered away from me, and I heard the bang as I hit the floor like a beam of wood hitting an ocean. I remember that the surface was hard and icy against my head, and it caused my tongue to stick through my teeth.. and then all saturated thought was snatched away in those mere seconds._

_Seconds._

_Minutes._

_Hours._

_The heart._

_The heart does beat._

_It trickles through lost tiny streets._

_A breath._

_A breath of air._

_A butterfly creaks and seems to flare._

_Before I awoke in a stone cold nest,_

_Such strange sounds, I can't recall._

_Save the thudding noise within my chest,_

_That echoes now, but feels so small._

_The eyes._

_The eyes do see._

_They flicker through eternity._

_I feel._

_I feel too much._

_I don't remember feeling touch._

_Stripped bare when eyes do dart at me,_

_Demon screams all opened wide._

_I fear these giants, I wish to flee,_

_A pain is dashed right through my side._

_Why do you wish to make me feel so sore?_

_All is dark and gauzy, but not so as before._

_..._

* * *

Luna Lovegood stood just before the reception desk. The flower in her hair had come lose, and so she dragged it through the pale tresses to fix it up again. The large flower was deep violet in colour and with a large glass gem in the middle, she smiled and remarked to herself just how pretty it had looked in the mirror this morning alongside her lime green robes. Once it was all fixed up again, she stepped towards the desk where the Welcome Witch sat.

The Welcome Witch was a little woman, with sparkling blue eyes, and shoulder-length hair. She had a warming glow about her, which, Luna guessed, was good. A Welcome Witch who did not make you feel welcome, would not have been very welcoming at all. As, despite her calm demenour, Luna was a little nervous. It was her first day at work as a fully fledged trainee healer, at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries; she would have been stupid not to have a few knots tying themselves up and causing her upset in the stomach. She had promised herself to polish her badge several times this morning, which sported the St. Mungo's emblem of a wand crossed with a bone, but she had instead left it to collect some dust. Dust had a million or more origins, and she hoped that these origins would send her some luck.

Her eyes skittered around the room, to see many witches and wizards seated on the rickety wooden chairs. There was a lot of noise and hustle and bustle, she glanced briefly at a wizard who was covered in purple boils, and another who was having a heated argument with a witch who had fire spitting out of her ears. She thought it best not to gaze at them for too long and listen to what their argument was about. Old copies of _Witch Weekly_ addorned the wooden tables, and she was happy to see a few copies of _the Quibbler _scattered about too, despite that they were obviously being used as tea coasters.

"Hello, could you point me in the direction of the Janus Thickey ward, please?" she said with a broad smile at the older witch.

The Welcome Witch didn't even look up, and seemed to be writing some notes on a piece of parchment very fast. "Fourth floor, straight down the corridor to your left. I suggest you check in at Miriam Strout's office beforehand; for your induction. Which is to your right, just as you get on to the fourth floor." she said, rather gruffly, and not in a tone that Luna expected to come from a Welcome Witch.

The young witch wondered where the stairs were to the fourth floor. She couldn't quite place where Mirium Strout's office was, either. It shouldn't be too hard to find; she had been here before several times in the years gone by.

She meandered around some corridors on the ground floor in search of some stairs, and came to a cosy looking ward which had around thirty beds, and she knew it to be a section of the hospital dealing with Artifact Accidents. The walls were painted in lilac, and each bed had blankets to match with magically pristine white pillows and sheets, that cleaned themselves of any bodily fluids which dared to touch them. It was not a same-sex ward, as all of the beds seemed to be occupied by both witches and wizards, although most had their curtains drawn. Only a handful of Healers seemed to work here, and they stuck out rather fantastically from the hoards, thankfully due to their lime green robes. They were rushing around and cleaning the bed spaces, as well as talking and observing each patient, some were changing dressings, others were assisting the immobile to feed, inbetween giving them various bubbling broths and brightly coloured potions. The waiting and treatment rooms were just as crowded as the one by the admissions desk down the hall, and she was a little taken aback by how busy it seemed to be. The blonde guessed that a lot of the people in the waiting room here were waiting to be admitted, but it looked like none of patients currently occupying the ward were ready to leave any time soon. There was a lot of shouting, crying, and loud conversation, wrapped up within a normal hospital buzz that the Ravenclaw knew well. It was a really warm and sunny day outside, and she knew that this often brought out an experimental side to those with magical blood, an experiemental side which can so often lead to many fun escapades as well various, and thankfully small, disasters.

The blonde saw a large oak door across the other side of the ward, and managed to get to it without anybody spying her lime green uniform and asking her any questions; which she would not yet know the answer to.

The door had no knob or handle to open it with, but instead sported a large and dark mahogany sun at its centre, with rays of a much lighter wooden shade that splayed out into each corner of the door. Just as Luna began to trace her finger around the sharp edges of it, the door burst open and another Healer rushed out of it and knocked her to the floor.

"Oh... I'm so so sorry!" A man's voice came from above her. "Here, let me help you to your feet.. what were you doing there? Ah, I really am sorry."

The wizard seemed to be perhaps a little older than her, tall but a little plump in shape, with raggedy brown hair which fell to his shoulders, and a most unique beard which was long in some places but patchy in others, and seemed to have been persevered with. He helped Luna scramble to her feet and she smiled. "Don't worry, I've always been a little light on my toes." she said.

"You're new aren't you?" The wizard continued to fumble and fuss over her, and wiped at her elbows when he saw that a little dirt had appeared on them from her fall. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, thankyou, and yes, I'm Luna Lovegood." The blonde was quite happy that the wizard had now stopped his fussing and had taken a step back from her.

"Ahh, one of our new trainees. I'm Augustus. Augustus Pye." He held out his hand to her and she politely clasped it and shook. "I've been summoned from upstairs to create some more bed space down here to make the ward a little larger, it's been very busy today in Artifact Accidents. It always is when the sun is out. You'd think everyone would like to stay at home and relax on such a lovely day, but no, instead they all seem to yearn for bits of broom stuck up their noses, broken fingers, or potion making of a risqé nature."

Augustus beamed when Luna giggled loudly.

"I assume you're not working down here, or you would have been warned not to have gone through this door until the spells were completed." The young wizard said, and he shut the door behind him. "Whereabouts are you to be stationed? Up in Dai Llewellyn?" His tone sounded hopeful.

"The Janus Thickey ward." Luna smiled. "I've been told that it's on the fourth floor, but I don't even know where the stairs are."

"Oh, well, I've finished down here anyway, and I work on the first floor. I can take you to your ward, if you like?" he smiled back at her, and his questions were almost rhetorical as he started to walk her. "It's no trouble, I need the exercise anyway. Strout's office, I guess? Ooh, I just need to let the Healers down here know that I've sorted out their bed situation."

He quickly advanced on the first Healer who walked by, who was a tiny and very stressed looking witch, with a small smoking silver cauldron atop a tray, but Luna couldn't hear their conversation over the numerous commotions from the rest of the ward.

The stairs had been behind the reception of the desk where the Welcome Witch had sat, but Luna didn't think too much on the fact that she must have seen her walk in the wrong direction earlier. She did seem awfully busy, and was almost snapping her quill with how hard she seemed to be writing onto her piece of parchment.

Luna decided that she really liked Augustus, and although she didn't speak much to him, he did plenty of talking for the both of them. He gave her a brief overview of where the general things were, that they all usually took lunch at scattered times in the visitors tea rooms on the fifth floor, and where his ward was if she needed any advice from him at all. He briefly spoke of his interest in muggle healing techniques, that he had been sorted into Hufflepuff when he was a student at Hogwarts, and he also explained that he had been working here a good few years, but was only recently qualfied to be a full-time Healer.

The stairs were awfully long and winding, but Luna didn't mind too much. She would need to climb these probably several times a day, and her legs would just have to get used to the idea. Lots of beautifully framed paintings and pictures addorned the walls, and many of the people occupying them welcomed Luna with sentimental words and broad smiles. She would have to make the time to come and introduce herself properly to them all at some point.

"And here we are," Augustus said cheerfully. "Fourth floor. Spell Damage. It can get quite exciting up here, I've heard. I am suprised that a Trainee is starting their journey up here, you must have seriously impressed the Trust of Healers."

"I used to fix broken bones at school, only minor injuries though." The Ravenclaw said.

"And now you have me impressed!" The wizard was entirely sincere. "I always thought it strange that Hogwarts never implemented any Healer type classes into their curriculum. It's different now, of course, I read in the _Daily Prophet_ that they were to introduce it in some form as a subject. I can still bet that it won't take much precedence. Everyone seems to think that they are invincible, of course, as invincible as Harry Potter himself." He chortled, and Luna felt herself shy away a little at the mention of her friend's name. She did not feel the need to tell anybody of her affiliation with him, Ron Weasley, or Hermione Granger, just yet. Even more so if they didn't already know. "There aren't too many broken bones up here though, at least, the ward is not established for that specific reason. You must have a good mind for other minds, too."

"I really hope so." The blonde grinned at him from ear to ear. She knew very well that the certain affiliation with a certain trio had helped her immensely on the career front, as it had with everyone who had been involved with bringing down Tom Riddle, who was no longer referred to by his preferred name of Lord Voldemort.

"Anyway, the door infront of you is Miriam Strout's office, and I shall leave you to get your teeth stuck in!" Augustus bowed low.

"Oh, can you please tell me how to open the door?" She asked, after seeing that Strout's office door also had a large mahogany sun with all its rays emblazoned on the front.

Augustus laughed, "Ahh, of course. I always forget how that these darn things confuse the newcomers. The patients and their families never seem to take note of them, I guess because they have other things on their minds." he said. "You might want to knock on _this_ _particular_ one, though, and any which you don't know what lurks behind it. That's one thing that does get the heckles up on our superiors; they do like you to knock, even in an emergency. Once you've had your induction, a senior, or Strout, in this case, will ask you to place your hand on a specifically designed St Mungo's Crystal Ball in her office, which speaks to the rest of the hospital. The building will then remember your finger prints, hand shape, everything... and then once that's been done, you can place your hand at the centre of any sun, on any door, that you have permission to enter here. The rays will proceed to pull back, and can be quite loud depending on the age of the door, to unbolt it and the door will then open for you."

"It's a really beautiful idea." Luna mused aloud.

"It is." The young wizard smiled and stroked his immature beard. "Anyway, you'd best be off to Madame Strout, I'm sure you're already fairly late."

"I got here extra early, I think I'm not actually due for my induction for another two hours or so." The Ravenclaw said wistfully. "I think it looks enthusiastic, to be early. I will have to come and visit your ward sometime soon."

"If you get the time, that would be nice." Augustus gave her a low bow again and began to descend down the stairs. "Your hair flower is really pretty by the way, I'm sure that it'll strike some conversation with the patients." He shouted back.

Luna was glad of their meeting as it had made her have a small taste of feeling a little more settled, before getting to the bits that she just wanted to be over and done with. She was sure that Miriam Strout would be a lovely lady, from what she had heard, but she hated such formalities that she knew would soon ensue. She began to knock at the large door infront of her, forgetting that she had to be careful of the sharp rays of the wooden sun, and the grooves of skin on the joints of her fingers became heated and began to sting.


	2. Vines of the Soul

**"I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in." - Virginia Woolf**

* * *

"Ahh, Miss Lovegood." came a tired but warming voice from the back of the room.

Miriam Strout was kneeling at the back of her office atop a large and rather comfy looking bean bag. Luna had envisioned her to have been poised at her wooden oak desk and ready to receive a visitor, but then quickly realised that not everyone who has an office has to be constantly sitting at a desk; nor have been ready for a visitor who was visiting particularly early.

Strout had a mass of books, all differing in age and opened onto various yellowing pages, scattered about her knees. She may have been looking at them all with an intensity just a few moments before the intrusion, but was now looking up at the blonde witch with a large smile on her face. She then patted her hand softly on the bean bag beside hers, and gestured for Luna to join.

The young Ravenclaw bowed her head a little, and walked over to where the older witch sat. She took great care not to step on any of the books which addorned the floor, and then took her place on the bean bag next to Strout.

"A little on the early side, but you look ready to go." Strout said. "You also seem markedly less nervous than most. I guess, being that I accepted you with only your curriculum vitae - and it was a most outstanding read - it must be easier to not have a case of the jumping nerves."

"I guess I do feel a little jittery, if I'm being honest." Luna replied, as she had learnt throughout the years that it was the most normal response to give.

"This suprises me, being that you've dealt with so much, and so young. Your jitters are misplaced." The older witch noted aloud. "But, it's a natural feeling nonetheless, and not one that can't be soothed quickly. Today will consist of meeting some of your fellow collegues, seeing what goes on generally from day to day, and a small tour of our floor. To start with, though, I must say that I'm feeling a little thirsty... You simply must have a taste of my homemade wolfberry juice!"

Miriam Strout stood abruptly and hurried over to a cupboard which was above a rather crudely made sink, grabbed at some glasses and began to pour some blood pink juice into them from some labelled glass bottles. She was a very motherly looking woman, with large round glasses and light brown bobbed hair. Her lime green robes where exactly the same as Lunas, but with three white stripes on one of the sleeves, and she had several other brooches pinned to her uniform other than the standard one depicting the St. Mungo's emblem.

Luna looked around the room in a little more detail, and saw all sorts of objects, familiar and unfamiliar, scattered around on various tabletops as well as the desk. Nearly everything seemed to be collecting dust. She liked that Strout seemed to have an obsession with books, although they were absolutely everywhere except for in the large bookcases that took up an entirety of one wall. She fondly thought of Hermione; and how she would have had a fit at seeing so much reading material carelessly thrown about the place. Perhaps everything was structured to how Strout liked it to be. There was a large treasure chest in the corner which had been painted blue, with black dragonflies stenciled on it. The walls were painted in a sea lavendar colour, and the blonde witch felt many eyes resting on her from the various pictures which were scattered around the walls; seemingly all previous senior Healers, and none of the occupants seemed particularly pleased at being nailed up in such an asymmetrical manner. The ceiling was a deep chocolate brown and with a large and glittering chandelier hanging from it, and Luna took in every sparkle that it could emit in that moment.

The Ravenclaw suddenly thought about what her office might look one day, and hoped that it might give newcomers the same comfortable feeling that this one invoked from her.

"Here we go," Strout sat back down beside the blonde witch again, and offered her a glass.

Luna took a large sip, and let the cool taste of wolfberries immerse themselves in her mouth, the liquid was sweet and with a tangy aftertaste that cleared the pallet. "It's nice. Thankyou." she said in a genuine tone, and the older witch grinned.

"What have you been researching?" The blonde witch continued to sip her drink, but turned her attention to the books nearest to them both, she tilted her head and fingered one around in particular which had been laying upside down infront of her.

The book was ladden with too much text and not enough pictures, in Luna's opinion, which could hurt the eyes and make you feel boxed into a page of relentless symbols. She would rather that books like this had the same amount of text and be triple the size, as long as they were full of decorations and pictures, to lessen the force needed to stare at each line. To give the mind a breather and to think in between each statement or instructon, was a great method in keeping the Wrackspurts at bay. The young witch always found that information slipped into her mind much easier when you could trick it into believing that what you were reading was much more enjoyable.

"I'm glad you asked." She said. "Memory has always been a particular interest of mine. It's such a powerful thing, as it is everything we are, and it runs through our minds, our dreams, as well as our blood. In the present, we do not know quite how much we are feeling until we remember it in the future. It can become clearer, be embellished, or become clouded, and stored away until the most unlikely moments. We can even think that we remember things that have never happened. A good few of our patients have had unfortunate experiences with their memories, in losing it, or, at least, claiming to. Most, however, seem to remember far too much. "

Luna mulled over this, she had read a great deal about memory. "We can forget what we want to remember, and remember what we want to forget." She said dully, and then suddenly perked up a little. "I don't much think that I have ever wanted to forget anything. I doubt I ever would. For patients who have collected to many painful events; are you helping them to forget?"

"No. We do our best to equip them with the tools needed to function in society. They need to learn, as you already have done, that our pasts are our pasts, they can't be changed. Once a memory, and all too often they are bad memories here, has been remembered so many times - only spells can rid them. They make us who we are, and we all have to learn to cope." The older witch said.

"Why do you not rid people of their pains with spells?" Luna enquired, genuinely intrigued as she had read a little into this subject, but then remembered herself. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind my asking. I have an interest in memory too."

"Not at all." Strout smiled at her again. "Nothing bad can ever come from a curious question put to me. You will learn, in time, on how to phrase them to get the best results. I always believe that trial and error is the best way for Trainees to start, especially on a ward such as this; so that they can find their own feet and flourish in their paths in ways that is best suited to them individually, and thus we have a diverse range of Healers here. One healer might be great with a particular patient, whereas another would be a truly abominable idea."

The senior Healer chortled a little at that, and then proceeded to place her empty glass to the floor and walk back over to the side with her collection of mutlicolour homemade juice bottles. She grabbed a particularly large bottle, full of the blood pink wolfberry juice, and brought the entire thing back over to where they convened.

"In regards to your question, this ward focuses on spell damage. As you know, spell damage usually occurs in duelling, or fights of some kind. A lot of spell damage is accidental, of course, but often seems to be much more easily treatable than to the degree and purpose in which it has been dealt to a lot of patients here; to affect their mental disposition on such a long-term basis. It is our policy to consider memory loss by the use of wand as spell damage. The worse the damage, the worse the fight, and this leaves us with witches and wizards who have more than just a few simple issues. A lot of memory loss is easily fixable, as most spell damage is, but the few long term patients here who have suffered from such unfortunate circumstances..." She sighed for a moment. "It can require a number of years, if ever, to get them back to a similar mind that they once had. It is unethical, in our policies, to take away the past from those who are fortunate enough to remember, and to learn from their memories. I very much advocate that. We help to regain memory, not destroy it. Or falsify it, for that matter. Especially, as some of our patients have criminal backgrounds, and our Trust agreed that a line had to be drawn somewhere. We have had a lot of success with our therapies on those who have had darker pasts, and we have a great success rate of many being rehabilitated back into society."

"I can understand that." The young Ravenclaw replied. "It's best to avoid running the risk of a dark witch or wizard feigning to be insane, rather than criminal, and to put it all to a bad past that they need to be rid of to be better people."

"Right," Strout nodded. "It could lead to disrespecting the memory of any victims killed or seriously injured by a criminal patient, as well as the victim's families. Who, by chance, might also want to forget their pains, but most won't because they want to keep the good memories they may have of that patient also."

Luna suddenly felt something sharp as she thought of her friend, Neville Longbottom, and of his parents, who she knew to be long-term patients on this ward. Although he had always kept the story of his early life with them close to his chest around most, he had felt that he could open up to her on several occasions. Perhaps that she seemed so distant from the story about her own mother had helped him to do that. Perhaps he coveted her mind set, or her as a whole. She had always felt a pang of guilt that she did not grieve for her mother in the same way. Most days, she never grieved for her mother at all.

The blonde witch had often been the hard shoulder for a lot of her friends, and they had often specifically sought her out for advice. It had caused her to feel strange flutters of delight, so many butterflies, and it brought home that she _did_ have friends, or, at least, people called her a friend. She knew that this is what led her to choose her path as a mind Healer. She guessed that Neville had never found his closure, and that visiting his parents must be torture: every single time. They were existing, and alive, and yet they did not know him, nor understand the love that he felt for them. At the same time, she knew that he had good memories of them as a child, and despite his pain he would never want to forget a single moment that he had had with them.

"My friend, Neville... his parents are on this ward." The blonde witch said, as she gratefully received another freshly poured glass of wolfberry juice. She knew that it would be improper to not mention this straight away; even if Strout didn't already know that her and Neville were good friends. Anyone who knew enough to link Neville with the golden trio, who had tried desperately since to veer away from any attention, would sure enough not have to look much further to see herself entwined in the story also. With her mind in a sudden trail of thought, her teeth began to bite down on the inside of her lip.

"Ah, Frank and Alice Longbottom." Strout pursed her lips, and looked down at the floor through her glasses and at the books around her. "That's such a sad story, as I'm sure you already know much about. I'm afraid that, due to them being permanent patients, and due to patient confidentiality and by several Healer decrees, I could never place them directly under your care. I hope that you understand my meaning. I could never assume that Master Longbottom has told you everything.. but if there is anything that Master Longbottom has left out, then I'm sure it is with good reason."

"I understand. He has a soul which likes to guard itself." The young Ravenclaw replied. "Having a connection with Neville could also mean that I would unintentionally favour them. I could also learn information which Neville does not, and I wouldn't like to be put into that situation. It could also potentially affect the path of my own becoming of to be a Healer." Luna suddenly realised that she had been biting down on the inside of her lip perhaps a little too hard in between speaking, and reaped a few iron droplets with a flick of her tongue for the unintentional effort.

"I am thankful for your honesty." Strout said, sipping more of her delicious concoction. "It's not to say, that you can't befriend them. I'm sure that Neville wouldn't mind that he has a good friend keeping a loving eye over them at the times he can't be here. I can imagine it would be very comforting to him. However, their care plans, as well as any small progresses, are discussed at length with Neville and his gran by their designated Healer; so nothing else need be said other than how they've been doing in themselves. Perhaps, what activities you've seen them enjoy, that sort of thing."

Luna smiled at the older witch. She decided that it would be better to speak to Neville about this, before attempting to know them.

The older witch carried on, "We have, however, over the last year or so, been receiving large donations from the Ministry, as well as a few other private donations, to help fund our research into the treatment of memory damage. It's been years since we've had such an influx of gold. Even longer since we've had any outside interest in the treatment of extensive mind Healing. I plan to use it well while it's here, and we've had just enough to help other areas of the hospital too. I'm also hoping that this might make another small progress for your friend's parents."

Miriam Strout then stood to her feet and stretched tall, the age of her body was made apparant as a few loud cracks expelled from her spine. She walked over to her desk and pulled with some force at a rather defiant draw, and grabbed at some parchment from within.

"That would be nice. I'm sure it would make him very happy." The blonde witch said, pulling another book towards her which had some illustration amongst its text. There were diagrams of the brain and the soul projecting from it in various manners of multi-colour, with the phrase 'Ayahuasca - The Rope of the Dead' underlined in quill ink. It was the only word that was scribbled under in such a manner, and one with which its meaning had escaped her, that Luna found to be rather curious.

The older witch walked over to a table top which had a few, and much less dusty, books placed neatly on top of it. "These will be some beginner's study books, they are full of varying decrees and policies, as well as basic Healer termionology and common abbreviation meanings. I will hope that you will have read them all by the end of this month. Amongst each sections of each book, there are designated spots that require you to sign to show that you have read and understood them." Strout's voice was suddenly more stern, but she was very delicate in handing the books to Luna, who stroked her hands along their spines to get a feel for them. "It's not something newcomers like to hear as it's a sudden pressure that's placed, but you will have a lengthy test at the end of the month. I trust that this won't be too hard a task for you, as I know that you have put your time into researching whilst you were in your last year of Hogwarts, anyway. You will also be tested on your Herbology and Potions skills, it's pretty basic and I'm sure you'll do fine as you obtained an Outstanding for both subjects in your N.E.W.T.s."

The blonde witch felt for her hair flower, to check that it was still secure amongst the roots of her long pale tresses. She impelled the petals to shadow soft lines in-between her fingers.

"You can leave the books here for now, and we shall collect them later." The senior Healer's face softened again. "Right, now that we have gotten a feel for eachother, and you seem to have lost your misplaced jitters, I think that we should take a look around. But first - we must officially initiate you with our special St. Mungo's Crystal Ball, as we don't want you to be unable to get through any doors if its needed! Also, it will record any specific traits in your personality, and help us to to see what patient, or patients, would fit with you best in the future."

Luna stood up and followed the older witch over to a large pine cupboard near to the front of the room, and Strout swung open the doors. The Crystal Ball was very large, and was not Crystal, as Luna had expected, but a silvery smoking ball of gas. It floated above a platinum stand which had celtic knot branches and roots engraved across the sides of it.

"Like a Sorting Hat." The young Ravenclaw did not phrase it as a question.

"I guess, it runs from a similar vein. It won't pluck the thoughts from your head, as a Sorting Hat would do, however, as running thoughts are equivocal." Strout affirmed, and then took a hold of one of Luna's hands and began to trace her index finger around the younger witch's palm. "Biology, however, is tangible."

Strout placed one of Luna's hands onto the smoking ball and they both watched as the silvery gases enveloped her hand and turned a heliotrope colour, and then faded. "And, as we have contrasts to bear..." Strout took the young Ravenclaw's other hand, and placed that onto the Crystal Ball as well. Luna felt the smoke weave through her fingers, lick at the underneath of her fingernails, and whirl itself around the lines and patterns of her hand that she knew to be there. She suddenly realised that she did not know her palm lines off by heart, as she did with every part of the rest of her body, and it disturbed her to think that she had perhaps spent more times in her life memorising the lines of her face in a mirror.

They both watched as the smoke flashed to a vibrant purple once again, and then faded.


	3. Blackberry Entrails

**But behavior in the human being is sometimes a defense, a way of concealing motives and thoughts, as language can be a way of hiding your thoughts and preventing communication. **_** - Abraham Maslow **_

* * *

With a whip of her robes, Miriam Strout was already walking through the door and out of her office. Luna guessed that she should follow, and her feet did move, but her thoughts were stolen by the sudden itching of the palms of her hands. She thought that perhaps the gas from the Crystal Ball had been unkind to her skin, and so held them out in front of her for a better look. The blonde saw no abrasion, nor any fast-healing burns as she had half-expected. Only the same pale palms with the same slender fingers, each with one or two silver rings fixed onto.

Her attention then turned to one of them in particular, a silver hare surrounded with tiny delicate blades of chrysocolla grass curling upwards and around her middle finger. A ring that her father had given to her after the death of Tom Riddle, and one that had belonged to her mother. She regretted that her initial thoughts of receiving such a gift were not as pure of heart as her father's had been. She could almost feel the love he had for both her and her mother searing through the silver, and that sentimental power alone is what helped her to see it as one of her treasures. The Ravenclaw then receeded further into wonder, to a place where she often played, that her Patronus Charm would take the form of a hare years before her father would gift her such a thing that fit her as if it were made for her; it was curious indeed. She had no recollection of ever seeing her mother wear it. It was beautiful in it's own right though, and she found small comforts in thinking that perhaps her mother had sensed what sort of person her child might become, as small as she had been back then, and to have bought something to symbolise her foreboding with.

The itching spiked at her palms again and she rubbed them against her robes to create a warming friction that might help to extinguish the irritation. The blonde witch then suddenly realised that they had been walking down a rather long and winding corridor, one which was not at all befitting for the layout of an old abandoned muggle department store.

Miriam Strout then stopped abruptly at a door infront of them both, and turned to smile at Luna.

"Give it a try." She said.

Luna placed her hand into the middle of the sun, and she felt it pulse as the rays creaked loudly and pulled back, one after another.

"Good, it seems that the building remembers you already." The senior Healer watched as the younger witch began to rub her hands against her robes again. "Ah, the itching is natural, it will go away after a few days. Try not to let it bother you too much, or distract you from your new studies."

"I don't much like it. It reminds me that I have a body." The Ravenclaw said. _A constant cage that only falters in death, hmm.. not the time to remember such things_.

The remark made Strout ponder for a moment. "Your thoughts interest me, as I knew they would. You really are quite the perceptive young witch. Having a body is a curse that we all face, and share with muggles and all other non-human creatures. We all share a timeless effort to fly and break free from the limits of the body," her eyes glistened. "But, without a body, how do we know whether we are real or not?"

"Having a body is not nearly enough proof for me." Luna admitted, already looking at what was behind the door as the senior Healer began to push it open.

"Nor me," Strout grinned. "But it makes sense. Our minds need to be able to make sense of things, to see structure and patterns, and having a body is how. See it as you would a gift."

The door opened and much light filtered through to where they stood, and Luna had to squint to help her eyes adjust a little better. Everything had been rather dark and dimly lit on this floor up till now.

Luna gasped as she was welcomed with a large meadow, and she wondered if the door had been a portkey. The meadow was populated by many different wild grasses and flowers. On further inspection, she saw the tiny bulbs of bee behinds poking intermittently out of Foxglove flowers, and many white butterflies decorated the air like tinsel. She could hear a sound of running water trickling into her ears from an unknown distance, and she guessed that there was perhaps a river or a lake near by. She could see a lush thick woodland in the distance, with small wooden cabins located beside it. There was also a children's playground in the centre atop a small hill, which was next to a smaller cabin with smoke churning from the chimney. The young witch could smell the food being cooked from inside it, even from as far as they both stood, and it made her stomach rumble a little.

"I'm a little hungry too, let's go and meet your collegues and see what they have for us to eat today." The brunette said.

"There are no House Elves?"

"Not here, I'm afraid."

As they walked towards the place where the delicious smell was coming from, which caused Luna's stomach to ache in reply, she noticed that there were mushroom rings aplenty across the shorter grasses but the young witch was a little disappointed that she could see no faeries playing within them.

"This is all an enchantment, isn't it?" She asked.

"Yes, it is." Strout said, as they both began to climb the hill. "What gave it away?"

"The mushroom rings," She said. "We have plenty of them back home, and you can almost guarantee that, at least, one faery will be close by to guard it."

"Ah. Well, insects we can have here because they are predictable and so are generally taken for granted. Magical creatures on the other hand, not so." The older witch stopped for a moment to draw her wand and temporarily part the thick grasses and nettles in the area that they were approaching. "We call this the recreation room. Each bit has been inspired by the good and always non-offensive childhood memories our patients over the years have had, and they all conclude to similar settings. We have had some add-ons over the years, but generally speaking, it's always the same."

"In nature is where we are most at peace." Luna pondered, feeling very peaceful herself now. "This is a very clever comforting technique."

"It's also a good get away from the bleakness of the ward itself; a little respite. Some of our long-term patients who can communicate effectively have stated how much they appreciate the opportunity for escapism when they know they can't in reality, and some are set projects to help create add-ons to this setting for everybody."

"It's all so beautifully crafted. I would never have known if it wasn't for the absence of the magical creatures." The blonde was in total awe. "I have seen enchantments such as this before, but only on far smaller scales."

"Some of our patient's have been able to craft much more beautiful scenes than most of my Healer's can. I was so happy when I was given permission to allow a select few of them to help create this small reflection of their outside worlds." Strout eyes glistened once again, and Luna instinctively grabbed at her hand and squeezed it for a moment.

The sun set a warming glow to the young witch's skin, and the wind weaved through the lengths of her hair and carried many leaves from the trees. "Does it ever rain?" She asked.

"Sometimes. I do love a good thunder storm from time to time, don't you?"

The two witches ascended the hill further, chatting happily, as the wooden cabin came further into view. From what she could see, there were only wearers of the lime green robes sitting on the benches outside.

"This is Luna Lovegood, our newest trainee Healer." The senior Healer said, upon arrival.

"Hello, everyone." The Ravenclaw smiled.

There were three wizards, and just the one other witch sat on the benches, with plates of food piled high infront of them.

One of the wizards spoke first, who was the tallest, and he was beardless and with long straight blonde hair and colourless eyes that were almost like shards of glass. "Hello, Luna! Do sit down, my name is Oberon Greengrass." He reminded her very much of one of the Malfoy's, with their dominant trademark features. "Of course, we aren't all here, there are another ten of us officially. It seems that you will be with us the most, however, as we all work on a rotation which will take you a little while to get used to. You might even see much less of us once you are settled and have your itineraries."

Greengrass then proceeded to introduce the rest of the Healers. "This is Phelan Ogden, to my left..." He pointed to a rather chubby looking wizard, who had short brown hair, brown eyes, and with lots of freckles, who already had a mouth full of his smoking stew and dumplings, but grinned widely at Luna with crumbs clinging to his lips. "This is Dewei Chang, to my right..." He pointed to a much older wizard with shaggy shoulder-length black hair and very staring dark eyes. Luna assumed this wizard to be a relative of Cho Chang, whom she had met numerous times due to them both being in Ravenclaw house, as well as both being members of Dumbledore's Army at Hogwarts.

".. And I'm Breena Smith." said the last Healer to be named, before Ogden could introduce her himself. She seemed to be even older than Strout, but was very striking in appearance in that she had very elven features and sported particularly short purple hair. She clasped her hand onto Luna's and shook them, and then retook her place at the table. "We haven't had a _Trainee_ up here before, oh how cute!"

"I think I've seen you somewhere before, in a newspaper or something?" Ogden had finished his mouthful of food, his tone was very inquisitive.

"My dad is the publisher and editor of _The Quibbler_." The young witch said quickly.

There was a short pause and an unusually loud gulp from one of the throats around her. She rubbed her palms on her robes again as the itching made itself known once more.

"Oh, please. It's been far more accurate than the trash that you all probably read." Smith said haughtily to the rest of the Healers, and then turned to Luna. "I've actually always been a reader, and I'm glad that the newspaper has gained a lot of respect in recent years."

"Thankyou, but I'm not sure if that is entirely true." Luna replied. "We have never really minded all that much, although it does make us sad that so many people in our world are so quick to disregard the true magic in things. Muggles, who have next to no magic in their lives, desperately try to seek it and even find themselves believing in things that even I would consider strange. And, to speak from a more neutral perspective; it's good that we are hearing all sort of ideas from across the media too.. if we only heard one set of opinions then we would all probably think the same way, which would make our world weaker."

"This is very true." Smith agreed.

Miriam Strout, who's presence the young Ravenclaw had almost forgotten, then spoke up. "That all being the case, you probably don't recognise our newest member for that specific reason. Miss Lovegood, and I sincerely hope that you don't mind me saying this.." The older witch looked at the blonde for a sign of her comfortability, but Luna gave her nothing. "Miss Lovegood was a good friend of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley last year, and she assisted them, at her own peril, in the destruction of Tom Riddle."

Perhaps the statement had been meant as a favour to the young witch, so that she would start with everybody on a clear wavelength, but there was a sudden change in the first impression that the blonde witch had assumed of Strout: and it caused her insides to twist. There were a few gasps, and then Chang spoke up. "Forgive me, senior Healer, but that might have been something which Luna, herself, would have preferred to say..."

"Is there any pudding?" Luna decided to try and change the subject, now that her stomach had officially began the process of eating itself. She hoped that no-one would see that she was at all bothered by the sudden exposure. She was not completely sure if she was actually bothered by it all in the slightest, anyway.

Strout laughed aloud, and didn't seem to have registered what Chang had previously said to her. "Of course, let's grab you something from the kitchen... It seems we have blackberry pastries and custard on the menu today." She clicked her fingers and with a sharp crack; a large warm dish, caked in so much custard that she could barely see the pastries, appeared at the bench. Luna immediately took a free seat next to Chang and began to tuck in.

During her devouring, a crushed blackberry fell from her mouth, and skittered it's way down the front of her robes to leave a trail of tiny blood-like stamps. Frenzied bloody foot prints; all trying desperately to inch themselves away from her. Her eyes found the source sitting just atop her knee, a berry the colour of a bruise, and she crushed it with her silver hare and brought it up to her mouth for a taste.


	4. Of Rags and Silks

**Here we go... a little beast of a chapter - and I hope to continue writing them at this length. I've only thrown out some chicken bones before, as I've been dipping my toes in, but here is a big bit of bloody steak... (I'm a vegetarian, so I'm not overly sure why I'm using meat euphemisms)... The hours have slipped by so quickly as I've been writing this - and now it's time for my well-deserved tea! Sorry for any spelling errors... I'll read through this again another day, and I'm sure that I'll pick up on a tonne of them...  
**

**O... hai Bella... ;P**

* * *

**A blackened shroud, a hand-me-down gown**

**Of rags and silks, a costume**

**Fit for one who sits and cries**

**For all tomorrow's parties - **_**Velvet Underground 'All Tomorrow's Parties'**_

* * *

**And so I finished up my prayer, rose slowly and I stared**

**But I was empty as a grave and ghostless was the air**

**Laid back to bed and dulled my eyes and searched those fruitless skies**

**Again begged the thunder bolt to strike to mark me or else I will die - **_**Bat for Lashes 'Lilies'**_

* * *

Miriam Strout seemed pleased as Luna licked her plate clean. The pudding had left a warming feeling in the pit of her tummy, and she felt as though the custard, which had thickly lined her stomach, was now spreading through her arteries. She looked a little into the distance, and saw a couple of rabbits playing amongst some daisies. At least some animals were allowed in, it seemed, although she wasn't entirely sure if they were even real. She then licked her lips clean; sugar always had its way of keeping her mind sweetened.

"Right, my dear, I will leave you now. I am sure that one of these lovely gents.. or lady.." Strout smiled broadly at Smith. "Will show you around a little and see you off. Your study books have been taken to the main entrance reception, so please don't forget them when you leave. I await your arrival tomorrow, and I sincerely hope that you get a good night of sleep!"

Luna held out her hand instinctively to shake the senior Healer's, which Strout gratefully took a strong hold of and then placed a small and motherly kiss on the blonde's cheek. The older witch proceeded to wave to the rest of the Healers and disapparated.

"Come on then," Chang said, getting up from the wooden bench and onto his feet. "Greengrass is deligated cook for today, as most days... Ogden would secretly prefer to stay and eat it all.. and I'm sure that Breena here should be getting to her patients right now so that they don't miss the meal-"

"Well, excuse me, but I can talk for myself." Smith interrupted. "But yes, I do have to be getting to my own patients, unfortunately. Luna, you must join us for a few drinks later in the week, so that we can catch up a little better!"

"I might just do that." Luna beamed as she also stood up, and then she turned back to Chang. "Do you not have patients as well then?"

"Oh, yes we do. Breena's are a more special case though." Ogden replied for Chang, despite grabbing another plate of food which he had already begun to devour. "There are a good few Healer's here, and most of us deal with a good few patients which we share on rotation with others. Our group has been able to arrive a little later today, which is great because we get a lie-in on such days, to help with breakfasts. Some of the other Healers started around twelve hours ago, and will be due to finish once they start bringing the patients here. Once our twelve hours are up, they will be back... and so on and so forth. There are also shifts inbetween the two main ones, for part-timers, as well as more specified Healers, such as Breena, who have patients which are more exclusive to them."

"I tell you, three days off a week isn't enough time to recover sometimes," Smith chortled. "But, I wouldn't have it any other way. I really do love this job, and I hope that once you have found your feet; you will also."

The older witch bowed a little and, with a crack, disapparated too.

"I guess we will see you tomorrow, then!" Greengrass smiled a little at Luna. "And, honestly, don't worry if you've forgotten our names by then. Newbies always seem to be so worried about offending when remembering the name of somebody they've only just met... it's funny how small anxieties can make us draw such large blanks."

"Thankyou all for being so welcoming to me," Luna replied and jumped up ecstatically a little with her hands clasped. This seemed to frighten Greengrass which made Chang snigger at him. "I can't wait to get home, get my study books out of the way, and then get started tomorrow!"

"Don't be too optimistic about getting your study books done... I think we all were to start with. However, all that writing really does go through one ear and out the other.. especially when it splurges in too fast like that." Ogden advised, brushing more fallen crumbs from his robes. "I think mine took longer than the designated month, and it was probably much easier back _then_, but I knew the main bits to get through the tests with. If you do that, you'll do fine."

* * *

To be walking with just one other made Luna feel at peace again. She found it much easier talking one-to-one rather than to a group, as her mind had a little more space to unwind itself. It was such a beautiful day in the Recreation Room, and she almost felt like skipping through the tall grasses that her and Chang passed. They were walking down hill and towards the entrance that her and Strout had passed through initially.

"So.." He started, and scratched at his head a little. "I guess that you knew my sister, Cho, fairly well?"

"A little," Luna replied. "Not much, in truth, though. I was in the same house as her at Hogwarts, and we both associated with the same people."

"I was in Ravenclaw also," Chang smiled at the blonde witch, but it faltered quickly. "You probably still know her better than me, regardless. She is so much younger than me, and I fear that the age gap meant that we were never all that close."

"That's a real shame. I very much liked Cho, she was such a sweet girl." Luna said dreamily. "She was a really good Seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team too, come to think of it. I assume it might have been you who got her into supporting the Tutshill Tornados?" Her palms began to itch again.

Chang laughed fondly. "Would she really need help from anybody to get her to support _them_? They are amazing!"

Luna bit her lip when Chang continued to smile as they walked; he obviously had no idea that the Tornados had been under a lot of scrutiny in the past for illegal broom tampering. She felt that it was probably best not to mention that right now, as he was quite obviously having some warming memories flutter through his head.

Through the door with the fiery wooden sun embellished on either side, and they came to the long and winding corridor once more, which Luna had daydreamed through most of last time. She would make sure that she took it all in better this time.

There were many doors that they passed, before turning through a large open archway which she had missed before.

"Where do the doors lead?" The young Ravenclaw asked.

"Oh, those are rooms for the shorter-term patients. Voluntary admissions, that sort of thing." He said. "Cho actually spent a little time there once before, I think it was to be the longest time I've ever spent with her - as short as it was."

"What is she doing these days?"

"She married a lovely muggle boy." They were now walking past more doors, as well as loads of portraits once more. "His name is Ning, but I can't quite place the surname. It's interesting that his name means tranquility; when she has always been in much need of just that. They have no children, yet, but I guess he's going to be in for a bit of a shock if they do. It's unsettling that due to the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, she can't even tell him of her magical blood until that time."

"There are muggles that call themselves witches too." Luna giggled. "Although they deal much more with herbs, healing, love, and spirituality. She could ease him in that way. It's good that she isn't a man... a witch - may just be believable - but they would never take to the idea of a wizard."

Chang gave Luna a strange look, as if he didn't quite believe her story.

They came to a very large room, with a few Healers in as well as their patients. There was a large television in the corner, with one of the old teachers of Hogwarts, Gilderoy Lockhart, poised in a chair infront of it, watching intently. He looked over at Luna for a moment, grinned and waved, and then turned back to it. She doubted that he recognised her, from what she had heard about his situation.

"This was the original Recreation Room. We call it the chill out room now, but, obviously, I doubt it is anywhere near chilled out as our newer one. As you can see, we have the luxury of having some Muggle television sets installed, which were granted by the Muggle prime minister. It shows mainly nature and wildlife programmes, as that is all we are licensed for. It was meant for our muggle-born residents, but, as you can see, everybody seems to take an interest."

The room was a bright magnolia colour, and replacing the usual portraits of people were scattered paintings featuring various breathtaking landscapes and flowers relaxing in the breeze. There was one in particular which caught her eye, which was of the moon in the night sky, with shooting stars flying across the background.

There was a mixture of at least fifteen loveseats and sofas situated around the room, each set to have a good view of the large television at the back. Gilderoy Lockhart was the only patient that Luna recognised from the five that were here, and she then began to wonder when she would meet Neville's parents.

An old grandfather clock stood tall beside the two of them, and Chang looked up to check the time. "I guess this must be where we part for today, as I must be getting to my patients." He said in a friendly tone. "I'm sorry that I can't escort you all the way, but if you go back to the archway just there, and take a left, and walk straight down to the end you'll recognise Strout's office on the right, and then the winding staircases down the to the other floors are a little beyond that."

"Thankyou, so much!" Luna gave him a peck on the cheek, and the wizard's cheeks flushed red. "I know my own way, so don't worry. I will see you bright and early tomorrow!"

"There is still much more to explore, but you've got the basics now. Just turn up early at Strout's office tomorrow, at around eight o'clock, and she'll take you from there." Chang's eyes sparkled and he gave her one last smile before he walked out of another door, which was on the other side of the room.

_So many doors and corridors that I need to learn, I will definitely be in need of a map tomorrow_. Luna decidedly thought.

As she walked through the archway once more, she noticed a black gated door directly infront of her. She could see that it led to some downward steps, and there were candles mounted on the walls either side behind the door. She looked briefly to her left, and she did recognise that part of the passage, and could see the location of Strout's office with a small squint of her eyes. The gated door was very enticing, and towards it she walked, beginning to excuse herself in her thoughts. _If anyone sees me, I'll just say I got a little lost_. She thought, but then she felt a little pang of guilt. _I don't wish to get Chang into trouble..._ She pondered where she was for a few minutes, pulling her wand from out of her pocket and placing it behind her ear. _I just won't get caught, then_.

Conscience officially eased by her own doing, she swung the gate open and began to walk down some steps.

The corridors that the steps led to were stone and arched like the inside of a cave, all dimly lit and with flaming torches which were scattered along the walls sporadically. There were vault-like doors replacing those with the suns emblazoned upon them, and they reminded Luna very much of those she had seen countless times in the Gringotts Wizarding Bank. She felt as though she were in a maze, and nothing at all resembled any of the other sections of the Janus Thickey ward - which was actually turning out to be more of a hospital in its own right. Luna wondered what the intention of all of this was. She knew, almost immediately, that this is where the high profile criminals were most likely being held: but she wished that this was not the case. She wondered, for a moment, why these patients (as patients they were, like any other in the hospital) were being segregated to such a degree that even the decorations had to be befitting to them. Dark witches and wizards _must_ equate to, at least in the opinion of the general public, such gloomy surroundings; but, without their wands, was there really any need for a much higher security? Was it for the benefit of the patients, their few visitors, or for the benefits of the staff? She knew that the occupants of all the rooms surrounding her would likely not be allowed such respite as that of the Recreation Room.

Luna wondered what it would look like in the rooms hidden behind the large metal vaults, each with so many locks twisting and entwining upon their rusting surfaces. The enchantments placed on them could be felt as she wandered, and she began to walk her fingers along the walls. Perhaps, each room was bigger than they appeared through more magical means. She pictured them full of colour and flowers, for surely these patients would need the biggest distractions. Her nails created a very satisfying clicking sound as they danced across each metal surface that they reached. The doors stood tall, as if meant to threaten, and she came to the conclusion that a goblin would surely have to open them.

The blonde witch then remembered a moment that she had shared with her father when she was young, when she had asked why she had had no toys as a child, or a room which had been spectacularly coloured and addorned; as most childrens' rooms are. Her father had told her that to give young children so many toys, so many unnecessary things, was for the benefit of the parents - and not their child. It would teach them to need external things for distractions, to ease their boredoms, and to soothe their pains, without need or want of contact from another person. She understood this and was glad that neither a comfort blanket, or a soft toy, had ever taken the place of a cuddle from her father.

How different it was then, before starting Hogwarts, that she had drawn and painted endless faces that she could not put names to. Faces that had never judged her, and faces that knew her every thought without ever speaking to her. The faces that she had spent hours, and even days, creating were not known to her until she had been at Hogwarts for a good few years. They had then become littered with imperfections, and were often very ordinary and understimulating to the eye; but they were now very real. They were seperate entities that could easily live their lives without her, and did not need her, but they had a want of her to fit her puzzling pieces into their existence. She had grown to want their puzzling pieces in return; so that they could all help to smooth eachother's naturally grown rough edges. Each person with their own individual remedies to another's problem. Each with their own style of bringing out the joy in another. Friendship had then become a truly fascinating thing.

She stopped at a door which had enchantments that seemed to be drawing her in, and she pressed her face against the rough cold exterior. Her fingers trailed across all the silvery protrusions that, on further inspection, seemed to be bolts and locks all shaped as different solar systems.

The cold on her face seemed to warm a little, and as soon as she thought she could hear the sound of loud heartbeats; a sudden loud and husky voice made her gasp with fright.

"Hello there, newbie. Please, be careful where you wander, and what you touch." It was coming from the only picture frame in the entire corridor. Although Luna had almost bypassed it, it was very large and the frame was made from a solid shimmering gold.

"Oh, hello." Luna stopped abruptly and walked over to the portrait.

The occupant was a man of average build, wearing plain black robes, and with a beautifully detailed white ruff around his neck. He had short dark hair and a thick beard which had some silver hairs protruding from it. His picture seemed a little faded, and appeared to be collecting a lot of dust.

Luna smiled as she recognised his face. "I see that you are occupying more than one painting, then. I remember you from a painting at Hogwarts, the Portait of Healers... situated close to the grand staircase."

"Ay, you do have a good memory." The occupant's eyes seemed to sparkle a little.

"Not really, I aim to speak to every portrait I pass. Each painting is like an entire library of information, as you all have such rich histories." The Ravenclaw said wistfully. "I guess that the walls would be very bare, if that were not the case."

"I do remember you, also. I have had it on good authority that you were the only one to come and search for all of us when that spineless caretaker had taken all of us down and put us all in an awfully dark room." The occupant sniffed loftily. "Such disrespect towards the ancestors. Having to hear the Fat Lady sing from such a close distance in that room was truly a muggle hell in itself."

The young witch giggled, remembering how much her Gryffindor friends had complained when they had to endure such ghastliness before being allowed to enter their common room.

"It's a good job that most of us have other paintings to escape to. I do so pity the ones who were unable to do so at that time." The occupant continued, and began to chuckle. "'It ain't over till the Fat Lady sings'... pah."

"I assume that the other five healers in your painting at Hogwarts have others too?" Luna enquired.

"Ah yes, yes they do, Miss Lovegood. As most historical witches and wizards do." He said. "We often had many artists asking for paintings back then, each as beautiful as the last. They are few and far between now, however. Although, I am most thankful that I never ended up on these collectable cards you get with your so-called Chocolate Frog treats these days. How busy I would be all day, if that were the case!"

The blonde witch felt a small delight that he had remembered her by name as well as her face, and decided that this portrait was definitely coated in far too much dust. She pulled the lime green cuff of her sleeve over her hand and began to wipe it all from view. The figure inside it moved to and fro so that she did not wipe across him directly and smudge any of his features.

"Many kind regards, I can see clearly once more!" His tone was most grateful as she finished, and he looked at his robes with a wide smile. "And you, dear lady, have become quite the beauty. My name is Saint Bonham, by the way. Saint Mungo Bonham."

"Oh? So you're the founder of this hospital!" Luna pulled the skirts of her robes to the sides and curtsied, bowing her head so low that her hair fell across her face in their long lemon tangles. Her wand, which had been delicately poised behind her right ear, fell to the floor and the sound echoed down the corridor.

"I don't usually like to say.." Bonham said sheepishly and stroked his beard with one hand. "However, it's been so long since I've had a clean and all that dust was getting rather tiresome. In fact, it has been even longer still since I've received such a wonderful curtsy!"

The young witch grinned and picked her wand up from the floor. She was glad that she had become aquainted with such an extraordinary wizard. He might only be but a painted memory, but was one that was was so important in the history of the hospital. She had found, time and time again, how beneficial it was to interact with such things that most overlook or dismiss. Had it not been a portrait of Professor Phineas Nigellus Black that had helped Harry, Ron, and Hermione in their quests? Despite any ancient prejudices the Slytherin may have held, he was a former headmaster of Hogwarts and therefore a fountain of knowledge who had been overlooked, for a time.

She was reminded, again, of all the unknown faces she had drawn when she was a little girl, and how often she had wished that they would speak to her. Perhaps, if they had, by some fluke, resembled a living person that she had never met.. then they would have been brought to life too.

Luna remembered that she had even made countless rough drafts of her mother, and they were all too often so close in resembling her.. but she had never completely finished a single one. Each draft was almost perfect besides a missing ear, or an eye, or even as close to resemblance as missing just a single lock of hair.

A horrendous noise broke the silence that Luna had floundered into.

She immediately looked up at the painting once more, but the occupant, with his eyebrows raised, merely shook his head.

The Ravenclaw turned on her heel, the skirts of her robes flaring around her, to face the vault-like door which she had pressed herself up against, in interest, before her meeting with Bonham.

The noise started up again, from behind the door, a nasty retching sound which offensively rang through her ears. She had not heard such a sound since she had seen her aunt stick her fingers down her throat to try and vomit out Aquavirius Maggots, which she had unfortunately ingested after trying food from a sub-standard muggle restaurant. It sounded very painful, and Luna knew that with such heaving there was always a risk of all the organs falling from the mouth.

Taking a few steps towards the door, Bonham spoke up once more. "You're really going in there, aren't you?" he asked, but it was more of an inquisitive tone rather than a concerned one.

"I didn't think I'd be able to. I assumed goblins had to open all of these doors." She said, not looking back at the portrait. "Besides, I have my wand. Whoever is in there really doesn't sound well at all."

"You are a very curious witch." She heard from behind her.

The blonde placed her hand on the door, and heard the sound of loud muffled heartbeats once more, as well as feeling all the surrounding enchantments pull her in, and she then proceeded to push against it a little. It gave way much more easily than she had previously expected such a weighted door to. One glance back at the portrait, and Bonham had vanished. Luna easily guessed that he must have gone to one of his other portraits to tell Strout where she happened to be, not that she minded at all. Her hand tightened around her wand, but instead of keeping it drawn, she tucked it into one of her long white socks. It did make her feel a little more safe in the knowledge that a Senior would arrive here soon, regardless of what she would find behind this door. _It's not like I could just leave here with this door left open, anyway, and I haven't the faintest idea of how to lock it again._ She assured herself.

Once it had swung open freely, the young witch stepped inside. The colourful decorations and flowers that she had hoped to see were nowhere. It was not a large room, as she had expected, but long and narrow. She felt that no enchantments had been cast anywhere but on the high security door which was now behind her, and it had swung itself shut with a bang. The walls were stone, and the floor had no carpets and was coldly left cobbled. There was a small bookcase at the back of the room, squashed against a boorish four poster bed which seemed to be the only luxury in the entire room, but only with the smallest raggedy blanket. Luna winced as she noted the drab orange paint which was peeling from all corners of the stone walls. Orange was the worst colour they could have chosen for such a narrow room, she knew. There was an empty picture frame which had been callously nailed to the ceiling, and that was it. It was such a stark contrast to all the other beautiful things that she had seen since being here, and it had taken her completely by suprise.

Always one to get a little lost in the details, she must have missed what was behind her and felt a hand clasp itself around her mouth, and another burrowed through her hair, and in a second she was pulled to the floor with a fair amount of strength. The pain from the force did not fully register and her heart did not beat any faster than usual. The Ravenclaw tried to form words around the tight grasp, but even she had no idea what she was trying to say. She felt it unnecessary to draw her wand, even at this point, as she didn't want to frighten her captor anymore than she had done so already with the sudden intrusion.

"Sssssshh." A warm mouth spoke against her ear, and the hiss seemed to curl itself around her eardrum. "They will find us, best for us to keep quiet, little one." It was a rasping whisper, but it was loud enough for the young witch to realise that it belonged to a woman.

The acidic breath, which made her nostrils flare in disgust, put Luna's insides on edge a little more than the familarity of the voice did. The hold this woman had of her meant that she was pulled right against a strange collarbone which jutted outward and poked at the back of her head uncomfortably. The stench of vomit filled the room now, and a wetness seeped through her robes, and she realised that her and this woman were sitting amongst it.

The hand that had been clasped around her mouth now moved to her throat, and she felt a crooked nail drag itself lightly across the side of it and up to her ear. A nose then pushed itself onto the top of her head, and some long raggedy black curls bounced over the blonde's face, as the woman drew a sharp intake of air.

"Mmmm. You do smell good, little one." The woman hissed, and the hand embedded in her hair pulled Luna's head round gently to look at the face below a little better.

The young witch was confronted with heavily-lidded eyes which were almost black and were skirted with very long eyelashes. Eyes that she knew extremely well. The familiarity of the voice become clear, and Luna felt the strange sensation of the hair at the back of her neck standing on end, which must have almost matched the unruly, thick, shining tresses that she had come to know so well. It was a shock to see her, and for a second or two she couldn't quite believe it. Was it just someone that looked like her? The blonde witch noted that she did not look much like she had so before. The woman's face was much more gaunt and her strong jaw and cheekbones poked out as obviously as her collarbones did. Truthfully, there really was no denying that it was her. Still held tightly, the woman did seem to be not much more than skin and bone all over. It seemed that her hair had been strained into a simple high ponytail, perhaps even weeks before, as the curls had mostly fallen out and fell about them both like a raven waterfall.

"Oh?" The older witch tutted and looked very disappointed for a few moments. "You're not who I thought you were." Her grip loosened and she pushed against Luna's back gently a few times, signalling for her to get out of such a close proximity.

The Ravenclaw stood up, and straightened out her robes, but was careful not to touch the vomit that she knew to be all down the back of them. She could feel that the moisture had leaked through her socks too, and she did not much want to see what colour the pristine white had turned to now.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Luna said darkly, staring down at the barely human figure infront of her.

"Hm? Well, that's rather rude." The dark witch replied, which made Luna raise an eyebrow slightly, and then she yawned deeply whilst outstretching her arms. "This room is strange, it keeps closing in on me. I do keep saying, but no-one believes it."

The young witch was aware of her wand sticking into her leg, should she need it, but she still couldn't quite believe just how subdued Bellatrix was right now. She couldn't quite believe that this even_ was _Bellatrix. Was she not dead? Killed at the Battle of Hogwarts a year before? Also, to be sitting in her own vomit, was not something she had ever expected to see this noblewoman doing. A murderess, and a dark witch, but she was still a noblewoman, being that she was a part of the most ancient Black family. Her clothing was all wrong, there was no steel-boned corset clasping at her innards so tightly that it made the Ravenclaw's eyes water, as it had done so many times before. There was no lavish lace, no velvets or satins that shone in such an emerald and dark liquor iridescence, as they had done so before. Only a simple black cotton top coupled with a simple long and layered black skirt, which was hitched up in a really undignified manner that revealed scabby knees on some rather small, and sallow, legs. If there was an attribute that was the biggest signature to her name, other than her masses of hair, or dark brown eyes that came alive at the sight or blood, then it was her pride: and Luna sensed not one ounce. At least, not right now.

She remembered how it had been at Malfoy Manor, and just how excited those near-black eyes had been then at the sight of young witch's blood. Even at the sight of her own, her eyes had grown wider still, as Luna's nails had snagged at her skin slightly in defence. She could not remember any pain that the dark witch had relentlessly tried to inflict on her, in order to get information about the Golden Trio's whereabouts. Bellatrix had grown very bored of her fairly quickly, and had passed her along to Fenrir Greyback who she had half-expected to tear her up in his jaws. Yet, the only pains she found easy to sense during those weeks were that from every witch and wizard surrounding her. Even if the blonde witch did know of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's location at the time, she would have died with it. She knew that she was in there mainly because of _The Quibbler _printing support for Harry Potter, but she was truly prepared to die with the Death Eaters simply _thinking_ that she was hiding them: her friends.

It had taken her so long to find some true friends, who believed in her, and who legitimately wanted her around; she wouldn't have given a single one up for the sun nor the moon and the stars.

The raven-haired witch sniffed gutturally, and became animated once more by moving her arm upwards and across her face to wipe her nose.

Luna began to look around for anything to clean up the mess that surrounded Bellatrix, but all that caught her eye was the raggedy blanket on the bed. _I really can't use that..._ she sighed heavily in her head.

She turned once more to the dark witch, who now seemed totally oblivious to the new company she had and was beginning to pick the scabs from her knees to make way for tiny crimson bubbles.

The young Ravenclaw moved back towards the older witch, and kneeled down infront of her, not minding the new wetness which was now seeping into the front of her socks and turning them completely to ruin.

"I don't much think that you'll be alarmed... but, just in case, I'm just letting you know that I'm going to draw my wand to clean this mess, okay?" Luna said. The dark witch's head was lowered but she looked up at her intently with her large eyes.

Luna felt that it might be too trusting of a move, and that at any moment Bellatrix could revert and snatch her wand away from her.

"I'm going to stand back and do the spell from a distance, okay?" And when the older witch nodded slightly, the blonde took a few steps back and aimed her wand at the floor, and made sure that the other witch would know that she wasn't aiming it directly at her. "I'm doing it now... _Scourgify_."

Bars of soap and some wet sponges appeared and began to clean the floor, as well as Bellatrix, and a couple made there way over to Luna to give her a clean as well. She looked down at her socks and the back of her robes, which were all stained but at least the worst of it had been removed.

"Now to get us both a little warmer... _Exaresco_." The Ravenclaw then whispered, and then both witches' clothes were immediately warm and dry, and even the floor had no puddle to be seen. She then tucked her wand securely back into the top of one of her socks.

Bellatrix was silent, but still watching her intently. Luna began to wonder why that was exactly, and she hoped that the dark witch wasn't planning anything in her thoughts.

"Your wretching sounded painful, I could hear it from all the way out there." The older witch's eyes darted briefly to the door next to her as the blonde spoke. "Do you need anything for it? Do you want me to help you into bed? I know that violent sickness like that really takes it out of you, you must be awfully tired."

Then, a small and husky cough, to clear her throat, before a voice managed to croak from the raven-haired witch. "I sleep right here. I don't like to be stared at."

"Oh... I'm sorry.." Luna said, and she turned towards the bed which was in the corner. "I'll bring your bed here, then. You can't sleep on such a cold floor, it'll put too much strain on your bones... and who knows what's crawling around in here.."

The blonde witch began to pull the mattress from the bed, as well as the tattered blanket, and heaved it across the empty room and close to where Bellatrix sat. "I only wish I had more blankets for you, this old thing can't be keeping you warm one bit. Oh - I've got just the thing!"

She drew her wand once more and picked up the blanket, and pointed her wand at it. "_Leviteraestus-estus_." She whispered, and then smiled. "There, it'll be much warmer for you now."

She walked closer to the dark witch and held out the blanket to her, but Bellatrix did not take it and merely looked in the other direction, and so she placed it on her bare feet so that she could feel the slight warmth which was emitting from it.

Luna didn't much think that she was going to get anything more from the Slytherin, and she began to feel a little worried that she might be putting her under some sort of distress. "I'm going to go, now, but I will surely see you again, if I can. If you're okay with that."

With one eye on the older witch, she opened the door once more, and then almost ran out with a slam - and the sudden rush of adrenaline took her by suprise. She held the door back tightly to ensure that if it was still unlocked, so then it wouldn't be easy for a very tired and malnourished Bellatrix to escape. Although, it had been very easy for her to pull her to the floor in such a ghastly state.

"Don't worry, it's locked." Came a voice from behind her.

"Are you sure? I feel unsettled about letting go." She replied, and looked around to see that Bonham was back in his painting and grinning at her.

"It's fine, honestly. Would I lie to such a pretty lady?" He affirmed, and the Ravenclaw felt herself relax a little. "Did your curiosity satisfy you then?"

Luna let go, and saw the solar systems moving and churning back to as they had been before she had touched it previously.

"Well, I don't think it killed me." She replied, and padded over to the portrait once more, the moments inbetween each of her glances back becoming longer. "Did you know that she was in there?"

"Bellatrix Black? Or... Bellatrix Lestrange, as you know her? But, of course. I've come to know her really quite well from this distance. Prone to bouts of sudden rage, that one." Bonham adjusted the ruff around his neck for more comfort. "I'm suprised that you didn't already know that, however, but I guess they originally wanted to ease you in. Which means, you have been wandering again, have you Miss Lovegood?"

Luna smiled at the mention of her name once more, as well as the rememberance of her wandering. "I very much like to wander, even in my sleep."

"I have seen it for myself!" Bonham laughed.

"I did not even know that Madame Lestrange was here..." Luna continued, but trailed off her own sentence.

"That suprises me, as many people do seem to." He replied. "Too many want to go and have a look at her, and, if you ask me, it's a total breach of privacy and dignity.. As a founder of this hospital, I do not condone it one bit."

"Her room looks as though it were made to breach that too." The Ravenclaw felt a little saddened at the contrast between it and what she had seen up till now. She wondered what the rooms of the long-term patients, who were not in segregation, would look like. _Clean, colourful, with books to read and enjoy, carpet to roll around on, and a warm, comfy bed to sleep in?_

"Unfortunately, this witch in particular is probably used to such conditions. Azkaban would not have had a bed to sleep in, nor a pot to piss in." Bonham then coughed. "S-sorry... I didn't mean to swear infront of a lady such as yourself."

"No worries." Luna said, and once again found herself rubbing the itching sensations away from her hands - trying desperately to quell herself from scratching the flesh right from them.

"I figure that you should be on your way now, little miss.. and be sure to walk a few steps faster when you pass Miriam's office." He winked at her kindly.

Luna bowed her head low once more and curtsied. She decided that she really liked Bonham, and figured that he'd be good to converse properly with at another time. The blonde then wondered if he had any more portraits hung elsewhere in more public sectors of the hospital. She would like to keep to her word and visit the dark witch again, if she could, but first, she had a lot of studying and research to do... mainly to discover how she had never learnt that His Last Best Lieutenant had survived.

On her way out of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, she looked up at the old abandoned muggle department store which was made from red brick, and then to the large sign saying 'Closed for Refurbishment'. She clutched at her study books as she took in each detail. It looked so dilapidated and decayed in comparison to how much beauty and darkness that she know knew to be behind those walls, and Luna found it to be a most beautiful sight.


	5. Without No Cage

**I, quite evidently, am much more comfortable with familiar characters rather than OCs in this world. A good few OCs did have to be made though, or familiar names embellished and put with personalities, and so I hope that it's all near-good enough for you all. I'm also much more comfortable with descriptive writing and personal thoughts than conversations and interactions between characters (that sounds so much like my real life problems oops! I guess that's why I feel I'm suited to writing from Luna's POV than most others... I'd be somewhat RUBBISH at writing from the perspective of Hermione - she's far too realistic and logical!)... so, if you have any tips - please go right ahead! Practice practice practice. Thankyou to everyone following/favouriting, and thanks for the special few who leave me reviews... they leave me with such buzzy anxiety levels (of the good kind) that it takes me a few days to retrieve a clearer head... but they are really, REALLY appreciated. I love the anon review which I have received too, but I do feel wrong for not being able to PM a reply! I do so love Bellamione, but the Lunatrix community should be MUCH bigger than what it is.**

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**I'm not formed of myself alone**

**All the other others, they just fade to black**

**When you think you have me is when I don't look back**

**Keep on laughing, calling after me**

**Keep on laughing, I'm just free**

**We were ready to behave**

**But there's no freedom**

**Without no cage - Emily Wells '**_**Becomes The Colour**_**'**

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Luna Lovegood was never one to apparate needlessly, despite the popular opinion that a journey as long as this one would certainly call for it. It was still a beautiful day, with the sun prickling in its Autumn glare, and the breeze tickled cooly at her skin like the garnering fingers of an Asrai.

She never kept a steady speed whilst on her broom, instead choosing to weave with the winds and interlace herself amongst the clouds. Quidditch would have never been the sport for her, despite her love of watching it. She involved herself in the experience far too much to even think of rules. The blonde loved to roll around, sometimes flying upside down with her hair webbing messily across her face, and other times dipping so low so that she could run her hand through any waters that she flew by. She had almost lost her hair flower at one point in a more daring dive, but the freedom was always too good not to sample.

When the humble black-coloured cylindrical house teetered into view, on a hill just past the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, she was reminded of how it had looked just a few short years before. Tears had stung her eyes at the ruin of it, but, with the help of her father and some new friends, they had managed to reconstruct it back to its former unsettling beauty. Luna and her father had made their life there, and although their roots were firmly entrenched in southern Ireland, they had made this their tree home. The move, back when she had been eleven, had been quite catastrophic, and neither saw a point in unsettling themselves further with something so trivial once more. The world was always at their feet, and they could travel to wherever they fancied and on whatever vagary. Strong foundations were important, her father had told her many times, and with her head always in the clouds; she was constantly in much need of something to keep her grounded.

Bellatrix Lestrange was in St. Mungo's, and she had not known it. _The Quibbler _often caught wind of such things easily, and, if Bonham was correct, a lot of people seemed to already know about it. She wondered if Harry and Ron, now that they were both Aurors-in-training, might have had a clue. The Ravenclaw had seen it happen; she had seen Molly Weasley throw an unnamed curse which had hit the eldest Black sister squarely in the chest, just above her heart. She remembered the exhillerated laugh which had fallen from her blood red lips moments before the ink had dispelled itself from her eyes. A laugh that had made Luna's nerves wrap themselves around her entire spine and sting as though they were the electrifying tentacles of a Jellyfish. It was the same laugh Sirius had given before he toppled backwards, and lifeless, through to the Veil of Ancestors. The same one her mother had savagely squawked when standing on that crooked cherry chair, with her arms outstretched, and her ice blue eyes glowering straight foward into nothingness; as though her young daughter had been imperceptible.

With a thud, Luna crashed to the ground with her broom on top of her. She had never been too great at landings. Dirt now sullied her uniform robes among other things that she had picked up on that short day. The young witch hoped that her personal House Elf, Kiwano - whom she had named after the bizarre horned melon fruit, due to the unusual Elf genetics of having tiny bump-like horns atop her head - wasn't too busy to wash and ready it for tomorrow's first full shift at the hospital.

The blonde threw her broom to the ground immediately after entering the front garden through a rickety wooden gate, and paced herself along the zigzagged path. Some friendly Sprites greeted her from within the old crab apple trees that stood either side of her front door, which was thick and black, studded with iron nails, and with a knocker shaped like an eagle. Knowing that it would be open, and hearing her father clinking about in the kitchen, she pushed on through.

Xenophilius Lovegood was just taking a seat beside the wrought-iron spiral staircase in the center of the circular kitchen when his daughter's presence became apparant. He immediately began to smile and signalled her to give him a hug. The young witch dropped her bag where she stood and hurried over to him.

"How was your day?" He asked heartily, as Luna threw her arms around his neck to tighten their embrace.

"It was more than just a little cramped with just about everything." She said, breathing in the thick smells of patchouli that the wizard's homely egg-yolk yellow robes seemed to be invariably soaked in. "On first impressions, the Healers I managed to meet today, who work on my ward, all seem nice enough."

"Did you make any new friends?" Xenophilius continued to beam at his daughter, she slid back a little so that she was in his lap more comfortably rather than crushing him, more so than he would ever admit to his daughter, beneath her adult weight.

"I think that the overall busyness of everyone means that making friends might take some time." She said, although unconcerned. "Two of the Healers I met today, Breena and Augustus I think were their names, mentioned that they might like to see me outside of work at somepoint this week. That might be nice, as then I'd be able to get a better feel for everybody."

"That's grand. I really am proud of you. I half-expected you to venture off into Wizarding Naturalism - but no, something like this is far more suited to your many talents." His eyes welled a little with some tears, and he lifted her hand to kiss the space that bore his wife's silver hare ring. "Your mother would be so proud."

Luna fondly stroked her father's face with delicate fingers.

"Is there any ginger tea?" She asked, and, before the wizard had finished nodding, she padded over to the many curved cupboards. Even the sink and stove were unusually curved to fit the circular shape of their house.

The kitchen was brightly decorated in an entourage of multi-colour, and busied with many different birds, insects, and flowers which had all been painted by her hand.

"What on earth have you got all down the back of your robes?" Xenophilius enquired from across the room, and Luna realised that she had totally forgotten about it.

"I cleaned it with a spell earlier, so the worst of it is just staining now." She said, pouring both herself and her father a warmed glass of ginger tea. "Which reminds me, I need to ask Kiwano if she is free to help me clean them."

"I'm sure that she'll have some time later," The wizard began to check his own robes for signs of anything which may have rubbed off, and seemed more than pleased that only a little dirt from the garden had escaped onto him. "After she has finished galavanting in the fields with Oisin, of course."

Luna giggled. Oisin had been their House Elf for as long as she could remember, but he had fallen head over heels for their newest addition which she had bought from a rescue centre not too long ago. Deaths in the wizarding world continually lead to the homelessness of many a poor House Elf, as well as other pets.

Passing her father a glass of warmed ginger tea, she took a seat next to him.

"So, are you going to explain how you got so dirty on your first day?" Xenophilius sipped his drink and felt the comforting sharpness wash down his throat. "You didn't fly too low and skid across a swamp again, on your way home?"

"No, no, Dad." The blonde witch began to laugh, but then straightened herself up a little. "Actually, I happened to stumble upon Bellatrix Lestrange."

The wizard nearly spat out his tea. "Madame Lestrange?" He asked, and, more alert now, repositioned himself to sit up more directly.

"Hm. Yes. At least, I'm almost certain of it." She affirmed.

Luna envisioned the many cogwheels in her father's head mesh together, splutter to life, and begin to turn. She knew that she would never have to worry about divulging her father in anything. He was extremely proud of his newspaper, and would never print anything without, at least, more evidence than just the words spoken from one mouth. Even if the information did directly come from his daughter, and he had never once disbelieved _anything_ she had ever disclosed to him. The young witch knew that revealing this to her father was a good thing, as he had plenty of resources to find out more information which could be beneficial to her. Plus, nothing confidential was broken, as, it seemed, a fair few people already knew about this - not to mention Bonham, who had several other paintings in which he could travel to, could tell whom he liked.

"I wanted to explore, some, before I left." The blonde witch started. "It was cut a little short, though, when I'd obviously wandered into where they keep the segregated patients. I'm guessing, for those who are difficult to handle, those that they somehow predict will be difficult to handle, and obviously higher profile criminals who've been deemed as mentally unhinged as well."

".. And had they not secured this place very well?" Xenophilius seemed to be very concerned now. "You must be careful where you wander, my dear child, we've been through so much... and if anything ever happened to you... again..."

Luna reached across to give her father's hand a squeeze. "Nothing happened, well, not really." She said. "All the doors along that corridor seem to be full of enchantments, and you can barely see them through all the locks that they are covered with. I was just exploring, and I happened across one in particular that seemed to unlock itself for me. I have no idea why. Each one seemed that it would only open for a goblin, as they reminded me so much of the ones at Gringott's. Perhaps it was faulty, I'm not sure... but it locked itself fully when I came back out."

"You went _in_?" The wizard had to take a few large gulps of the now-cooled ginger tea to steady his nerves. "Of course, I should have never expected anything less. I guess this is where you stumbled across Madame Lestrange?"

"Yes." The blonde witch asserted. "And - oh, Dad... it was rather horrible, actually."

"Did she touch you, again? I'm going to-"

"She is in such an awful condition, Dad. She had been so wretchedly sick, and was sitting in her own vomit when I came across her. There was nothing in there; nothing of her own." She said calmly. "I don't believe that she recognised me. It was so dark, cold, and the only comfort she had was this torn up blanket which looked to be a thousand years old. Her mattress looked like it was coated in Flesh-Flies, and I wouldn't be suprised if there was one big _fat _Giant Grub living inside of it."

"I'm sure those things are luxuries in Azkaban, and she was there for fourteen years, sweetheart." Xenophilius' face softened. "As much as the Black family is to be respected in most of the old wizarding families.. Don't forget what she, and all the others, _especially _any other dark wizards and witches that you may come across in the future, _did_ to us. Did to _our world_. Such a powerful bloodline, but such power is usually followed by corruption. Our world became a little darker, and a little more lost, at the death of Sirius Black."

"I know." She replied. "In my understanding, everybody in there has been deemed as mentally unfit. Perhaps higher security is needed, sometimes... but I really don't think much to Madame Lestrange having to live like that, nor anybody else, in a place where they should be receiving help. Being a previous inmate of the abhorrence that is Azkaban does not mean anybody should have to live like that, ever. Madame Lestrange... despite all that she has done, she is _nobility_, Dad. You raised me to be as open-minded as a human could ever possibly be, and I did all I could with my friends to erase The Cause from these times of such great insanity; but to also respect our bloodlines.. Our ancestors.. it is the most important thing for us all. So that no-one that treads with heavy-footing shall ever be forgotten, good, or bad."

"I know, sweet daughter." His demeanour was much more calm now, and matching to that of the blonde witch, and then he fell into a sudden trail of thought. "You know how much I despise Azkaban and all it stands for. What, do you suppose, is her reason for hospitalisation? How did she seem, to you?"

"Extremely subdued. I know that whenever she had been seen publicly before, or by any of us, she was always frenzied, _psychotic_ even... and I guess that she can't possibly be like that all the time." Luna pondered. "It was different this time and I can only guess something has gone wrong with her memory... but what of mine? Of my friends? We all saw her die, Dad. I'm sure of it."

They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Her father was twiddling the chain of his golden Deathly Hallows pendant.

"You don't suppose..." She started.

"Horcruxes? No." Xenophilius held a strong tone of certainty. "Madame Lestrange has a suprisingly small _known _count of murders, of people from the wizarding world, to her name. Much less than even the lowest ranking Death Eaters. She is well-known for her methods of torture and maiming, and her natural talents for duelling, because it gave her a buzz. However, I can bet my last Knut that she left the majority of the killing to others. I can imagine that she would have found the practice of swift murder fairly boring, if she was not already bored long before it got to that stage.. for the most part, anyway. I'm pretty sure that, before the Battle of Hogwarts, she only went out of her way to kill people who had disrespected her on a much more personal level. Although, there are still many victims who have never been found, bodies marred unidentifiable, and many more where only pieces have been found. I'm not ruling out that they could be her handywork, giving that it would be much more stimulating to her frame of mind than a fleeting killing curse."

The blonde witch considered this for a moment. In some ways, this woman was somewhat worse than a murderer either-way; her knowledge of Neville's parents cemented that fact.

She was reminded again of how quick the dark witch had grown bored with her, and left her in the eager clutches of Greyback. Luna then realised how suprising it was that Bellatrix had not gone further with her torture, to get the reactions she always so desperately sought. If you had any buttons that could be pressed, she was right there ready to warm the blood and watch it boil over with her childish glee. Fortunately, Luna didn't have too many visible buttons, whereas Bellatrix, as cunning as she may have been, always presented far too many - at least in the young Ravenclaw's eyes. Ambivalence hides weakness, and the eldest Black sister had far too often displayed many discernible passions. Bellatrix had left her with Greyback, who had touched her, but he had never bitten her and gotten her infected, as she had expected him to on countless occasions, being that he was an opportunist like that. He had threatened her with it on numerous occasions, as he was never usually one to resist the smell of any young girl, but he never acted on his threats. She had not even been overly bothered. The young Ravenclaw had found amusement, in her head, that she might have been destined to become a werewolf and also happened to be named 'Luna'. Perhaps Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dobby had just all arrived in time before things started to get truly heated. Perhaps, they had wanted her intact as they saw her as a future suitress for Draco Malfoy, then again, maybe not. The idea almost made her giggle aloud.

"It's pure guesswork... but Mrs Weasley's curse must have been reflected, somehow." Xenophilius spoke up once more. "Although, against popular opinion, and I do not mean any disrespect to your friends... Madame Lestrange, as terrible as she may be, is probably one of the greatest female duellists of our time. I had always found it rather suprising that she had been able to silence such a great dark witch."

"Me too." The young Ravenclaw agreed, and she felt the squirm of guilt in knowing that she had always thought it. Only a fool would have not acknowledged how great the dark witch's talents were. She has been one of few to have deflected an attack from Dumbledore. It was a secret belief that she would never feel comfortable about putting forward to her friends, especially Ginny, Ron, and Harry - even if they already did know that her curse had been unsuccessful. It made her all the more happy that she was able to talk so openly with her father.

"Perhaps, by some fluke, it's also how she seems to have lost some memory.. and if that's her main reason for being at St, Mungo's, then it must have been a fairly sufficient amount of damage." The wizard suggested. "Then again, this could have something to do with the Ministry. Especially, as it seems that you, nor your friends, have any recollection other than her death. Or, perhaps, she didn't rouse until much later after her death had been mistakenly declared."

"I'm not sure of the Ministry's involvement," The blonde witch took the last sip from her cold ginger tea, and placed the glass on the small coffee table infront of them both. "I remember Miriam Strout, my Senior Healer, telling me that they have had a large influx of gold over the last year... from the Ministry, as well as private donators."

"I can bet that if she has had her memory wiped somehow, then the Ministry will be paying through the nose to see that treatments are sought so that she regains it quick - for some simple questioning, or to have her straight back in the walls of Azkaban." He pushed his mouth to the side and wrinkled his nose in disdain. "Perhaps that's why she is being kept in segregation... so that she doesn't get too comfortable. I doubt most would be happy to see her frollicking about on the rest of the ward, anyway."

A sudden noise made them both jump a little, as Kiwano and Oisin walked in casually through the large magical cat-flap on their front door, which only House Elves could pass through. They had some shopping bags straining on their tiny arms, and both clambered up onto the kitchen sides to empty them and distribute each item to their designated areas.

"Afternoon, Master and Mistress!" Oisin said cheerfully, and both Luna and her father grinned and greeted the two of them in return.

"We haven't bought much, we just realised that you'd been running out of certain things." Kiwano said in her high-pitched, and rather squeaky, voice. "We'd have been a little quicker if this one-" she shot Oisin a sharp look. "-didn't keep piling the baskets up with different flavours of toothpaste."

Oisin looked upset. "But... I like to brush each tooth of mine with a different flavour! I've seen Mistress do it, Mistress understands!"

"Child's play. Mistress was only teasing." Kiwano had obviously had enough of her accomplise for one day. She began to empty a large selection of fruit into the glass fruitbowl which Luna had painted herself many years before.

The young witch could watch the House Elves squabble and go about their daily activities for hours, but she decided that she probably very much needed a long bath to wind down a little for the evening, before starting to have a flick through her study books.

As she stood, her father turned to her. "I know it's not your nature, but don't let on that you know anything, or suspect anything: to anybody. A quiet and naieve-seeming disposition means that the answers will all unfold to you, without any effort on your part. People find it much easier to warm to something that doesn't give much away." He said, quietly, so that the Elves couldn't hear. "If you can, try not to mention that you have met with Madame Lestrange, at all. Although, I'm sure that won't take long to surface."

Luna smiled her sweetest smile to her father, which seemed to appease him, and then bent over to give him a kiss.

The bathroom had been filled with the smell of coconuts, from oils, soaps, creams - anything that she could find which even had a hint of the seed's wonderous odour. The water had steamed as she stepped into it, and her skin replied with an angry reddening. It had felt so good to be fully immersed in a water that smelt so delicious.

Wrapped in a towel in her bedroom, the study books were now all splayed out infront of her as she flicked through each. Suprisingly, everything she read seemed to be relatively easy, and although she may not have them finished in one night - at most, she could see it taking only a week.

The photo of her mother hugging her was perched upon her bedside table, and she grabbed at it. Instead of looking at the photo, she flipped the frame around, flicked the tiny bits of metal which held the back of the frame securely to the photo, and pulled it off to reveal a hidden shard of mirror.

Luna looked at it for a long while, catching glimpsing reflections of the candles in her room as she turned it to and fro. She then continued to read, much more focused on her work now, whilst pressing the shard deep beneath her fingernail.

* * *

**Some added plot... and I sincerely apologise for the lack of Bellatrix! *cries* You'll get much more soon!**


	6. Just a Sky (Part One)

**I wasn't planning on this, but its a little extra that is needed, I feel.**

* * *

**I fell in love with you**

**But I know, I know that's just a sky**

**I don't know where I go - Soap & Skin '**_**Mr Gaunt 1000**_**'**

* * *

_They could be fireworks, if they were not but smoking balls of shallow breath with the cool air sucking at their heat._

_They could be heartbeats, if the heart didn't feel it such a chore to exist. I can hear the angst as each chamber reluctantly gives way for another surge of life._

_They could be fingernails, but I can count some missing as they tinker across the silver tightened spiderwebs. Some seem to have fallen away from themselves, making haste from reddened fleshy beds._

_One. Two. Three. Four. Four arachnids. One, the one I watch the most, with its extra-spindly form creating luxurious webbing to catch its prey; it has no fangs and kills with silk instead. Two, the one that makes my toes curl, pumping itself through a gut and into the prey before sucking out a liquified meal; leaving trails of such pretty lifeless husks. Three, the one I hate the most, with fangs so sharp that venom hits a weakened heart long before a mind has noticed. This one rids the web of things it loved for play, if only for a few moments, as though they had never been at all._

_These spiders; they could be my sisters, and I. _

_If, of course, it were not for the knowing that I am the fourth, the smallest, with webbing in all the wrong places. Places that not even the flies can find. Half-starved and forgotten. The one most likely to be found, and pressed for want of nothing except for an autocrat to be free from fear. The weakest._

_It was desperate to assume that the one who kills with silk would return, to bring me some of her catch. I had tried to hide her from the one with the fangs all our smallest lives, but she now chooses to hide in her pretty palace with all her dusty trinkets, looking down at my trembling whilst yearning that I fall and disappear from her sky._

_No matter how long I lie against the stone, it just never seems to steal any small warmths that I know I can radiate. The countless hours have left my body with blisters that rear their ugly heads straight from my impairing bones. Their faces torn and ragged, but mocking, and almost breathing of their own accord. _Disgusting_. I do not mind that I drag these claws across them, watching them tear, and scream out as they bubble and leak._

_I am threatened so often with words I cannot translate, and bribed with memories that I do not hold. The giants, with their wide-eyes and fingers that seem to insert themselves deep inside my temples, give me their kills that only seem to serve in making me feel as though I have been purged from my own soul. I don't sense that within this barren wasteland of distortion is a soul that ever adhered itself to a body at all._

_However, such displeasures cannot taunt a fire from its fuse. I cannot take my focus from something deep within which had felt like a small dose of lightening to a withered and dampened stump. The small splutter, that the last sunlight gave, never escaped the restraints of this body. Perhaps it was only an imagined flicker. Everytime I feel that branches, leaves, and blossoms might splay; it's torn away again with brutish teeth that spread at my hopelessly infinite unknowing. Such sparkling teeth that shine with their trees in full fruition, spreading in a monstrous ecstacy as they spit close to the ones that were made tainted so early on, when I was a much smaller collection of bones._

_This body has always had skin which lays itself on thick, and, instead of protecting, it compels me to feel that of everything. That of everything, despite myself. That of everything, even what I would not know._

_Oh? I won't stoop so low as to seek refuge amongst the warmth of the treasure that you felt you had bestowed upon me, familiar little stranger. I have known such heat from fires that at which your intrepid grey eyes would only melt and split at the mere sight of, I know._

_I know things, and yet I don't. I don't claim to know most things, because I don't seem to know much at all, but I do know myself up to a point. Although, if I cinch onto any one thing it begins to unwravel, spiral, and tear itself away from me. _

_Only the fires seem to be vivid now, and it scintillates into the deepest recesses of my skull; with younger chestnut eyes pulled open wide, in horror, with fingers _so disgusting_. Molesting stubs that drew out a stare from such innocence, a stare that burnt such holes that it was almost inevitable that I'd fall into them. One can only tiptoe around herself for so long. It was made sure that my wretchedness was witnessed, and never forgotten; but, it seems, you did forget, and it was me that never did. All I saw was loving chestnut eyes before the blaze, on a face that was so like my own, but I had never realised those venomous fangs that hid in waiting. In all this fuzzing faded time I seem to have passed, I now see that this one will never turn to ash. It sticks to me like drying honey does to skin, picking up every piece of dirt that brushes by._

_I'm not as I was, as I am now nothing more than an unhallowed creature, but I'll keep screaming inside my head, and pouring all of my physical energy, all of my matter and form, into this one thing; to be saved once more, as I was so then, by him. _

Bellatrix Lestrange heaved herself up from where she lay, her bones cracking as her weight shifted to strain other areas of her body.

She leant over to the wall which she had been laying beside, and twirled the spiderwebs altogether around one of her remaining talons. She watched as each spider tried to break free from their sudden cages, before enveloping her lips around her entire finger to devour the carnage.


End file.
